


The Penguin Guide to Gate Travel

by MacBeth



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crack, Gen, Vignettes, ongoing series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-07
Updated: 2011-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacBeth/pseuds/MacBeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ongoing - well, probably ongoing - series of crackfic vignettes, to be blamed on the fic_rush comm on LJ. Because everything is better with penguins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tempus Pullus

_This can't be explained, but perhaps it can be excused._

 _I moderate a writers' comm on LJ, called fic_rush. We generally have one weekend a month in which we spend 48 hours writing (or trying to do so) in an online support network, with hourly check-ins. During the check-ins, dreadful running jokes develop, penguins turn up in odd places, and crackfic is frequently spawned in the final hours of the round._

 _I posted some of the crack, to my journal and various archives; and, to my astonishment, I was asked for more._

 _So I expect this will be an ongoing series of vignettes. Heaven help us all._

 _'Beth_

~ x ~

 _This one's from the 'Rush round of March 2011, in which the Time Chicken played a key role in the banter. Also, the UK went onto Daylight Savings Time in the middle of the round.  
_

 _(No penguins were harmed in the writing of this fic.)_

~ x ~

 

 **Tempus Pullus**

 

" _What_ did you say it's supposed to be?"

"Well, according to the legend the elder was telling me, the ritual meal is supposed to grant us protection against the evil of the _tempus pullus_."

"The _what?_ "

"You don't have to shout like that, Jack," Daniel said patiently. "The Time Chicken."

"The _what?_ "

"The Time Chicken. Apparently it's an important creature in their mythology. If proper measures aren't taken, the locals believe that time itself will begin to disappear. Their storytelling tradition has dozens of stories about the dangers of the _tempus pullus_ – there's one that's kind of like our Rip Van Winkle, where the careless protagonist loses his entire life during one short nap, and another in which an obsessive but easily distracted poet never actually finishes his great saga of the gods because he never gets around to it, and – "

"That has to be the biggest bunch of crap yet," Jack said vehemently. "Teal'c, have you ever heard anything like this before?"

"I have not."

"Sir, it doesn't sound all that dangerous. Okay, it sounds, um . . . "

"Ridiculous?" suggested Daniel.

"Sure. That's it. Ridiculous. But not _dangerous_." The smells from the Place of Ritual were getting stronger. It was hard to concentrate. "Really, it won't take that much to humour them."

"Okay! Okay! We can re-set our watches, if it means that much. How much . . . "

"Um, one local 'hora' works out to forty-eight minutes and three seconds, Earth time.  And – " Daniel glanced at the rest of the team. He could see the agreement in their eyes. "About the other part of the ritual . . . "

"What we're trying to say, sir, is that maybe this would be a good time to lighten up on the rule about sticking to MREs. We really don't want to offend the elders. I'm sure General Hammond will understand."

Jack was still glowering, but the decision had been taken out of his hands. Without a word, Teal'c turned and strode away from them, towards the Place of Ritual. Daniel followed. Sam cocked her head to one side.

"Okay, _fine_ , Carter."

She beamed and hurried after the other two. Jack followed, trying to look gruff. It wasn't easy. Particularly not when he was determined to get there ahead of Teal'c, if he could manage it without actually running. As if he'd let them get to the fried chicken first. _Hah._

~ x ~


	2. Blanket Solutions

_This one came from the February 2011 round of fic_rush, in which Spartans, Trojans, and the French Legion figured prominently, and the penguins were found to be multilingual (or at least Francophonic)_

_At that time, I was writing my MacGyver/Stargate crossover X Marks the Spot, which had been interrupted by a bout of flu. My very kind fellow writers offered me tea and blankies, and assured me that my characters hadn't been doing anything while I had been neglecting them._

_I really hate the word 'blankie'._

~ x ~

 

**Blanket Solutions**

"ONeill. Are you certain you do not wish any tea?"

Jack didn't even bother looking up. "I hate tea. I'm sick of tea. I'm not drinkin' any more of that crap even if Daniel discovers that we're offending some damned tribe's sacred tea-drinking rituals."

"Would you care for a blankie? We still have a generous supply."

"Would you _stop_ callin' them that? God, I _hate_ that word! Blan- _ **ket**_. They're blan- _ **kets**_. And _no,_ I don't want one. I've had enough naps to last me for years. When the hell is something gonna _happen_?"

Daniel glanced up from his book just long enough to pour himself a fresh cup. "Jack, if you have to shout, could you do it somewhere else? Personally, I've got half a dozen books left that I haven't read, the light's good, I'm dry and clothed, and it's been at least three days since anybody damaged me, so if you don't mind I'm not all that interested in messing up the status quo right now." He made a few notes on a scratch pad and turned the page.

Jack rolled over onto his back and draped one arm across his face. The movement dislodged three of the penguins, who emitted annoyed skreeks and whistles before they settled back down. Another penguin, one of the Emperors, waddled over, pecked at Jack's sleeve, and trilled something in French.

"Daniel . . . ? What's the little pest want this time?"

"He wants you to play Risk with them again."

"No."

"He says you're a much better player than the Humboldt penguins, and the Galapagos penguins keeping eating the pieces, so he won't play with them at all any more."

" _No_."

"Is it because he beat you last time, ONeill?"

"He _cheated_ last time." Jack hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the penguins, and walked to the open door of the hut where they'd been stuck for the last several days. Outside, the scenery was still nondescript, nothing more than a swirling grey fog of random letters that refused to coalesce into adjectives or even nouns. Inside was little better: the location was so sketchily rendered that any item, other than the tea and blankets, tended to lose clarity and definition if left unattended for too long. Even the penguins changed appearance occasionally, although never while you were watching. It had been much better yesterday, when they'd all turned into Spartans and he'd had several great hours rehashing Thermopylae with them. The Emperor penguins were surprisingly good at military tactics.

Jack glanced with annoyance at the only part of the hut that had remained clearly defined for the last few days: the curtain wall of blankets that MacGyver and Sam Carter had rigged up the first evening, using everyone's shoelaces and Mac's entire pocket supply of paper clips. Those two hadn't poked their noses out for more than a few minutes since then, although he had no idea whether they were solving mathematical theorems or screwing each other. Or both. Probably both.

"ONeill."

"What?" Jack didn't even try not to sound petulant.

"The penguins have transformed again."

Jack turned around and studied them. "French Legionaries."

"Is that another tribe of warriors?" Teal'c looked intrigued.

"Yeah. Not too bad, either. See if they want any tea, willya?"

~ x ~


End file.
